The Faculty
by secretjenna
Summary: This is the collected anecdotes of assorted professor and staff characters at the Virtual Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.Can be found here:
1. Introduction

Chapter One- An Introduction.

((A/N: A dedication and throw back to the old SOCK story. May it forever rule as the best VH fic ever

Also, this chapter is pretty much just to introduce you to a large number of the teaching staff at Hogwarts. A lot has changed since Harry Potter's time.))

Disclaimer: All canon characters belong to JKRowling, all original characters belong to.. themselves and the crazy people who have created them.

Start of Term

Twas the night before start of term, and all through the castle, not a creature was stirring not even... a professor... After the sorting feast all of the ickles had been rushed off to bed. They would be attending their first day of classes the following morning and needed all their beauty rest.

The professors, however...

Somewhere in a back corridor of the castle...

An averaged sized male in perfectly pressed robes sauntered haughtily down the corridor in search of a specific candelabrum. Upon his successful location of the object he smirked at himself with pride. Lifting one of the candles he stood triumphantly back to await the sliding of a panel of the wall in front of him. Anytime he was privileged to something every other wizard wasn't, it gave him a sense of pride and importance. After all, someday he was going to be the Minister of Magic, and then he would have access to everything everywhere! Each new addition to his privileges was just one step closer, as far as he was concerned.

After a moment during which nothing happened, he resisted the urge to run a hand through his perfectly combed red hair and gritted his bright white teeth. He had gotten them whitened just before the sorting ceremony, as Professor Percy Weasley never looked worse for wear. Jamming the offending candle back into its place, he looked around shiftily. After seeing no one in the hall he turned back to the candle holder and started lifting every single candle until he found the right one.

Mentally making a note of the proper stick, as he would undoubtedly forget and pull the wrong one next time as well, he stepped back as a small door, that would be invisible if one were not looking for it, appeared. Pulling the door open he stepped inside and closed it behind him.

A rickety sign was hanging from only one of its two chains, valiantly hanging on. It read, "Teacher Rest Room." Brushing past this, Professor Weasley came into a small, cozy room warmed by a large fire in the corner. There were a couple of tables, a couple of chairs, and small table-turned-make-shift-bar in the room. The room usually smelt of cinnamon, however, there was a putrid burning smell in the room now.

"Good Merlin's Beard, Isabella! Give it up and send out for something if you're still hungry after such a feast!" Percy exclaimed towards the red-haired professor in front of the counter along the back wall. Professor Isabella Giordano promptly glared over her shoulder, "I was only trying to make a pot of tea," she grumbled. Isabella Giordano couldn't cook to save her life; it seemed even making a good pot of tea escaped her. This always confused others since she was so adept at the subject she taught, Potions. Percy lifted his wand and rolled his eyes. He cast the simple cooking spell required to make tea and pointed towards the battered looking teapot on the stove. In an instant the pot whistled its readiness to be poured and a very sour looking Giordano poured herself a cup without another word. The sound of a newspaper's page being turned was heard as across the room. Mr. Dervish, the History of Magic professor, tried to hide his small chuckle and hid behind his paper.

Along one wall, Professor Hawthorne, the astronomy expert, was pacing madly. She was trying to get up the courage to make the trip up to her tower. Though she loved the stars with what was close to obsession... she was also terribly afraid of heights and all the stairs it took to get to her beloved tower proved a daily trial for her. Professor Vector, the Arithmacy guru, followed the other professor's progress with her eyes until she became crossed eyed. Shaking her head, she went back to her book on the mathematical mysteries of the world.

Professor Trelawney was absent, but expectedly so. She almost never came down from her tower except to predict doom much to the displeasure of the entire staff, including her assistant, Professor Medina.

Medina could be currently found sitting in a corner flipping tarot cards over into an elaborate pattern across the entire floor surrounding her position. Samantha Prewett, one of the two runes experts, was trying to be nice to the newer professor who currently was pointing out something in one of the cards. However, Professor Prewett thought that divination was complete malarkey and caused a lot of bad publicity for her own subject. It wasn't hard to see the disapproving glances she gave to the set of cards. However, Professor Medina just kept explaining, oblivious to any disinterest her colleague may have had.

Professor Trimble, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was no where to be found. But then, no one had seen Flora, the assistant mediwitch, since the sorting feast either. No one was surprised or worried.

Everyone was trying to enjoy one final night without the trials and tribulations that came with a castle full of children. Meanwhile, over in the student-known common room for teachers on the first floor, Professors Sprout and Longbottom could be found hunched over a strange small plant in between them on the table. One of its small tentacles had escaped its potting and was wrapping around Longbottom's arm, however, neither seemed to notice. A row of portraits could be seen looking around disinterestedly. Teachers of Hogwarts past looked out from their portraits and made faces at one another. A portrait of Professor Snape sneered at one across the room of Professor Moira, who in turn was making googly eyes at Hagrid, who couldn't seem to fit inside her portrait so he had to be content with winking from his own.

Just then a man in a wheelchair came into the room, Professor Toothill, a dueling officiator and Assistant Professor of DADA, he promptly snagged his chair on the side of the carpet rug that covered the floor and in a fit of panic, knocked himself and his chair over. A muffled "help?" could be heard from the carpet which now held him captive. The two Herbology professors were so wrapped up in their plant, they didn't notice. Professor Snape's portrait snickered.

Lucius Malfoy, still the school's governor, stepped regally into the room. Disregarding the contraption and the man on the floor, he stepped over them and looked around. He sneered as he obviously didn't find whomever he was searching for. Turning on his heel, he stepped back over the poor Professor Toothill without a glance, and after giving a nod to a portrait of the previous Astronomy professor, Fiona Sinistra, he sauntered out of the room mumbling about despicable professors and their unpredictable patterns. After tonight he would have to deal with both incompetent teachers, and insufferable students. Merlin help him.

As he went into the hall, he nearly knocked over Professor Avon, the assistant Astronomy professor. Lucius warned her to watch where she ambled, and Avon glared in return. Brushing past him, Avon made her way down the corridor, now grumpy after her encounter with Malfoy. Coming across a classroom which should be empty at this hour she stopped, hearing noises. She pushed open the door and peered cautiously inside. Within she found two other professors, Gwendolyn McAmis, Head of Ravenclaw and charms professor, and Oliver Wood, the flying instructor. They were alternately flying pillows across the room, making them do odd spins and flips in what appeared to be a miniature obstacle course. McAmis was trying to help Wood with preparations for his flying class that would be starting in the morning. However, to Avon it looked like crazy child's play. She quietly closed the door and left unnoticed.

After taking a staircase or two upwards, Avon nodded brightly at Professor Grubby-Plank, their resident substitute and all around helper. She was happily patrolling the corridors, looking for any excited first years that might not have gotten to sleep and decided to go exploring. It happened more than one would think it should. The Astronomy professor made her way to her own room for the night while Grubby-Plank pondered the start of another term as she turned down a different corridor.

The one thing every teacher would agree on was, i Tomorrow would be a long day, indeed. /i 


	2. Breakfast and Assorted Associations

Chapter Two- Breakfast and the Assorted Happenings Associated..

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

b Breakfast.. /b 

The next morning, students ambled into the Great Hall with varying levels of enthusiasm. Some bounded in and brightly drank their juice and ate, while others stumbled into the room, still half asleep, and occasionally the grumpy anti-morning person could be found among the group.

Along the Head table was much of the same, and there were some professors who hadn't even arrived yet. At one end, Bill Weasley, a very shaggy red-head and a professor of Ancient Runes, was discussing the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher(s).

"I wonder who they'll have gotten this year.." he mused aloud to his colleague, Professor MacMillan.

Freddie shook his head, "I have no idea, mate. It seems that position has switched with Defense since I was in school. Used to be, we couldn't keep a defense teacher around for more than a year. I suppose now it's that way with Care of Magical Creatures." He laughed and slapped Bill on the back, "At least we've both got our own jobs, they wont be sending i us /i out there anytime soon.. at least, I hope not." He added and took a sip of coffee.

A few seats down, Professor Vector, was trying desperately to keep her head from plopping face down into her bowl of porridge. She was not a morning person and was therefore, was making poor progress.

Just then Professor Prewett, clad in her classic purple robes that clashed brilliantly with her graying red hair, entered the Great Hall and tried not to grab the door and start banging her head on it. She was being followed closely by Professor Medina, who kept alerting Samantha to the necessity of a tarot reading for her.

"Now look Samantha, I know you have doubts in the abilities of the divine, but you must listen. In that reading I was doing last night I know one of the cards was referencing you. I can feel it!"

"Gerdie. You're going to be i feeling /i my breakfast down your front if you make me lose my appetite by discussing your ridiculous divination anymore." Prewett practically growled. This was very unusual for the head of Hufflepuff, who was normally quite bubbly and encouraging. However, she had obviously had enough of divination for one day. And if you asked her, she would have said for a lifetime.

Prewett made her way to the Head table and took her seat next to Vector with Professor Medina still so close she was practically on top of Samantha's robes, urgently trying to get her fellow professor's attention. Gerdie didn't even noticed when she scambled to take the seat on the other side of Prewett, that she knocked Professor Vector's head those last few inches into her porridge. Samantha glanced to her side and pitied her friend Jennifer Vector. 'Although,' Prewett thought, 'She might be on to something..' Prewett thought about the soundproofing possibilities porridge had as Medina went on rambling about the importance of the tarot and divination.

On the other side of the table, Mr. Dervish was sitting close to Professor Giordano and they had abandoned their breakfast in favor of various scripts for wizarding musicals. They were trying to put together a performance for the school and both seemed to be extremely dedicated to the project, however they couldn't agree on which script to pick.

"Now, Dervish." Giordano admonished, "You know very well we can't do Lakeside Story." Isabella didn't think they could argue the same point anymore. "The children will take it all out of context and before you know it, we'll have our own version being played out in the halls! I don't want to be cleaning up Slytherins and Gryffindors all semester."

Mr. Dervish chuckled as he always did when their negotiations got to this stage. "Now now moppet," he earned himself a hearty glower at the nickname, "I'm sure the students won't be running off to relive the play. And besides, it's the play with the most parts and I think we'll get a good turn out to see Slytherins and Gryffindors with an excuse to batter each other up a bit." He smiled good-naturedly, and their conversation continued along the same lines.

Out on the Quidditch Pitch, the officiators were surveying their turf. During the previous year, a Triwizard tournament had come and not only given all the officiators a vacation, but had severely damaged their beloved pitch.

"It looks lock they did a decent job…" mused one of the officials, Viktor Krum, a Bulgarian transplant. "Want to bet?" mumbled Madam Hooch, who was very disgruntled at all of her pitch being desecrated and then restructured. Ludo Bagman, the third of the officials bounced excitedly and raised his hand. He was always game for a bet, even if he lost. "Oh I do!"

"Shut up, Bagman." The other two chorused. There had previously been a fourth official, however, he had mysteriously disappeared after the last game of the season two years before and hadn't been found. At some point in time, one of the officials would have to remember to replace him. However, none of them were viable candidates. Viktor had translation problems, Bagman had gambling problems, and Hooch's 'drinking had Quidditch problems,' as some of her colleagues liked to joke. Each of the officials had gained something in their time apart during the previous year though, Viktor had gained another bump on his large, mis-shapen nose from an incident with a fellow Bulgarian during the Triwizard. Ludo had gotten lucky by betting on the Quidditch playoffs and for once came out in the positive by quite a decent sum. And Madam Hooch had gotten a tan from her vacation in Bermuda, and now had a liking for rum as a result instead of her normally favored drink of whiskey.

Viktor rubbed the bridge of his rather large nose. "I rally don't see any problem with de stadium, Rolanda. Can't we go inside and eat yet?" Large Bulgarians such as Krum couldn't go without a meal, their poor, large, muscular bodies couldn't manage if they did. Ludo turned to him conspiratorially, "I'll give you five for ten she doesn't let us go," he whispered. Viktor raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment. "I vill of course haff to take that bet, Bahgman," the Bulgarian smiled devilishly.

"Oh Rolanda?" he called and turned back to her. "Someone seems to haff spiked de pumpkin juice in the Great Hall. A first day treek or something. Perhaps we should go check dat out?"

Before either of them could say another word, Madam Hooch had already grabbed her trusty Silver Arrow and was flying towards the school, "Last one there is a rotten- I mean, yes we should probably go and help investigate that juice.."

Viktor turned back to Ludo and held out his hand expectantly. With a muffled oath, Bagman dug into his pockets. Looking up sheepishly he started, "Hey Krum, hows about you and I make a deal.." Krum rolled his eyes and grabbed Bagman by the scruff of the neck. "Forgeet it mahn. Vee must go and pull Rolanda off of some poor keed who's juice she has probably commandeered." And with mutual agreement they hurried towards the Great Hall.


End file.
